Skins
by IShouldBeHome
Summary: The story of a group of friends in a small town and their personal battles, relationships, and road blocks on the way to growing up. - A Glee fanfic written in the style of Skins. Not labeled as crossover, as it only involves Glee characters. Various ships included.
1. Sam

_Chicken, egg whites, fish (no salmon), oatmeal, brown rice but not after 6 PM, no butter or oil, and no soda._

_Wake up at 5, protein shake for breakfast, school by 6 to work out in the locker room for an hour and a half before classes start._

_Send Quinn her 'good morning/I love you' text._

_Walk Quinn to class._

_Get through the day._

_Work out again, see friends and Quinn (maybe), go home, pretend to eat Mom's dinner, call Quinn, jack off, go to sleep_.

If anyone would ask Sam, he would tell them he had a fulfilling life. He had friends, a somewhat solid relationship with the perfect girl, a great body, and an alright GPA. If anyone asked him what he wanted in life at the moment, he wouldn't have an answer because he seemingly had it all. So he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he was so sad.

The sadness he felt wasn't the kind he could explain; not like how he felt when he watched his favorite characters die in an action film or when a friend moved away. No, what he was feeling was inexplicable and it cloaked him. It kept him from being excited about things, even making out with his girlfriend or partying. Days blurred together, and though he didn't know what was wrong, he hoped he wouldn't feel this way for the rest of his life; just…empty.

"Sam. Are you listening to me?" He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the blonde perched on his lap. What day was it?

"Sorry…what?"

"I _said_ what are you wearing to my party?" Quinn asked, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers.

"Oh. That's tonight, isn't it?"

"Of course it's tonight. It's not like I've been talking about it for the last two months or anything," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Does it matter what I'm wearing?" He didn't mean to sound like a smartass; it was a serious question. She smacked him in the head.

"Yes it matters! You can't show up in a t-shirt and jeans, Sam. This is a sophisticated soiree slash prayer circle and you need to dress accordingly," she snapped.

"Oh right. I'm not coming by the way," Puck said. He was leaning against the tree with aviators on to mend the side-effects of his hang over. They were all sitting on the grass outside of the courtyard and everyone had been relatively quiet as Quinn described her party plans.

"What? You have to come! I've been planning this for most of the year and my parents are_ never_ out of town! You _have _to come." Quinn was a step away from a deranged eye-twitch.

"I'm a Jew, Quinnie. What the fuck am I gonna do at your prayer party?" he asked. Sam smirked. He had a point.

"You're supposed to support me," the blonde said, folding her arms. "What kind of friend—"

"Oh God, fine! I'm coming, just don't go into the 'What kind of friend' speech. I can't take it," Puck interjected. Tina cracked a smile, the equivalent to a loud laugh for her and Kurt shook his head, briefly looking up from his book. Santana rolled her eyes, having heard the speech many times before in other situations.

"I can't go, by the way," Mercedes said from her spot. Quinn snapped in her direction so swiftly, her hair smacked Sam in the face.

"What!"

Mercedes winced and bit her lip, looking around at her friends, who all gave her looks that told her she was on her own.

"I don't have a ride. My parents are busy, so…"

"Sam!" Quinn interrupted. The blond in question raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend.

"Yes?"

"Sam will pick you up on his way!" she said cheerfully, ignoring him. "There. Problem solved. Now_ everyone_ is coming tonight, right?"

"Rachel Berry isn't coming, is she?" Santana asked. Quinn squirmed in Sam's lap and avoided eye contact.

"Why?"

"Because if she is, count me out."

"What's wrong with Rachel? She's a nice girl!" Quinn argued.

"Right, and that sasquatch she lugs around has a brain," the Latina retorted, pulling a nail file out of her pocket.

"Santana, you're _coming_." Quinn glared and Santana pursed her lips and didn't respond, opting to go on filing her nails. 'Scary Quinn' was enough to shut anyone down; all it took was her green orbs turning to slits and her voice to lower for people to do what she wanted. "Any more issues that need sorting out?"

Everyone went silent and she smiled, going back to twirling Sam's hair in her fingers.

That evening, Mercedes came bounding down her front walkway before Sam could even cut the engine. She opened the passenger door and hopped in, shutting it and smiling at him.

"Thanks for giving me a ride," she said. "I mean, even though Quinn made you."

"I would have anyway. She's hell bent on everyone coming to this party." He pulled off in the direction of Quinn's house after giving her a half smile.

"So how are you?" she asked.

"Good," he replied, licking his lips.

"Okay…should I ask again if I want the truth?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at her, totally confused. He had been lying; he always lied when people asked him that question, but they always accepted the lie because he was so great at keeping up the façade of being okay.

"I wasn't lying…"

"Yes you were. You always lick your lips after you tell a lie. You forget how long we've known each other," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I do? No I don't," he said, licking his lips. She raised an eyebrow. "Damnit. Curse your attention to detail…"

"So how are you?" she asked again.

"I'm…getting by. Nothing's going wrong…I lost five pounds, Quinn let me get to second base…"

She laughed and shook her head. He didn't know how to respond to that, but he did smile because her laugh always did that. It was something their group of friends all agreed on. Her laugh could…cure cancer or something.

"Congrats on accomplishing trivial bullshit then?" She was grinning and he glanced at her again, his mouth agape. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

"It was um…honest. I guess I should expect that from you," he mumbled. "Anyway, what have _you_ accomplished?"

"Maybe you're looking at this the wrong way," she said.

"Pardon?"

"I asked how you were. You're basing your answer on what you've accomplished when you should base it on how you _feel_. Happiness isn't based on _things_, you know?" she told him.

"I hate it when I have to spend time alone with you because then my brain ends up hurting," he complained. She grinned and ruffled his hair.

"Trust me, it's good for you."

When they arrived at Quinn's it was worse than he imagined it was going to be. Everyone was seated on the floor of her immaculate living room in a circle.

"Great! Now we can begin!" Quinn said after letting the two of them in. Sam sat next to Puck, who looked like he was going to kill himself and the prayer hadn't event started. "Rachel even offered to say a Jewish prayer so no one is left out!"

Rachel Berry smiled at the circle and squeezed Finn, her boyfriend's hand. Quinn went on.

"And when we're done with our prayer circle, I'll go get the refreshments and we can listen to music and hang out!" she said sunnily. "And I think you guys will love what I have since Puck brought brownies."

Sam immediately cut his eyes to Puckerman who sat leaning back on the palms of his hands, now with a smug expression.

"I didn't know you baked," he whispered.

"Oh, I do. I love baking. I even have special ingredients," his mohawked friend replied. Sam should have said something, but the way this night was looking, he figured he didn't mind getting off his head. Hell, maybe he needed to.

Somehow, Sam had ended up on the roof. It was probably just the MDMA in his system, but for once he felt truly happy. He stumbled, holding his arms out and feeling his heart race due to the feeling of almost falling.

"DO IT, YOU PUSSY!" Puck yelled from the front lawn. The girls were laughing and running around in the sprinklers. Quinn was holding Rachel closely and singing Love Is a Battlefield. Mercedes had come over to stand next to Puck, shaking her head.

"I'M NOT A PUSSY!" he yelled

"THEN DO IT!"

Sam took a deep breath and looked up at the night sky. The stars were bright and he got distracted by them for a few seconds before looking back down. His friends were laughing and now soaking wet, including Mercedes, who'd been pulled into the group by Santana. Now only Puck was watching him with a smug expression that said he would punk out. He was wrong; the ground was swirling and the other houses on the streets were warping into multi-colored skyscrapers. In that moment he was sure that if he jumped, he'd fly.

But just in case, he would aim for the bushes. The next thing he knew, he was propelling himself off the Fabray's roof, and into blackness.

He missed the bushes.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with the visual of all of his friends, including Berry and Hudson surrounding a hospital bed.

"He lives!" Artie exclaimed, stepping forward.

"Your family's outside," Quinn said, rubbing his hand with her thumb. "We didn't know you'd wake up so soon."

"The good news is, you just broke your arm and hit your head being a dumbass," Santana told him with her arms crossed.

"Oh God, I jumped off the roof, didn't I?" Sam asked. They all nodded and Mercedes chuckled, shaking her head and putting a hand on her hip.

"You jumped off the roof."

* * *

The first morning back in his bed, Sam lay there, staring up at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. His alarm clock was blaring and he let it go for a few moments before reaching over and pressing the snooze button, something that hadn't been used since middle school.

He didn't arrive downstairs until 6:45am.

His family was seated around the kitchen table eating toast, cereal and juice. His dad lowered the newspaper he was holding and smiled at his son.

"Isn't this a surprise," Mary Evans said, pouring Stevie more orange juice. Stacey waved at her big brother with a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth. He smiled at the sight of them; he hadn't seen his family in the morning like this is what seemed like forever. "Want me to get the blender out for you?"

"No, I think I'm gonna have juice," Sam said, sitting across from his younger siblings and grabbing a few slices of toast with his working arm.

"Really? Well is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.

"Trix?" Now everyone at the table was staring at him. A couple days ago, Sam would have turned his nose up at the cereal, dismissing it as Sugary Hell and the cause for the fat rolls he swore existed on his body.

"Trix…?" his mother repeated.

"Yeah. I want something sweet."

Sam arrived at school at 7:25am. Five minutes before classes started. The doctor told him to avoid strenuous physical activity, including his usual intense work outs. He walked into the class room where his first hour was held and saw Quinn sitting next to Mercedes talking animatedly about something. When she looked up and saw him, her eyes widened and she got up, scurrying over to where he stood.

"You didn't text me this morning," she said, touching his arm.

"Oh wow. I didn't. Weird," he replied. She stared at him for a few moments.

"Weird?"

"I mean, sorry. I just…"

"I understand. You were probably in pain," she said, rubbing his shoulder and leading him to sit down. Mercedes glanced at him when he sat between the two girls.

"So how are you?" she asked. He genuinely smiled before responding.

"I'm okay." She looked for signs that he was lying and found none and it warmed her heart to know that he was better than he had been.

After school, Quinn had dance practice and he usually spent this time working out again. He realized that now, without that to fill his time, he had no idea what to do.

"What are you doing?" He looked up to see Mercedes holding her books and staring at him with an amused expression. He'd been staring at his closed locker with his backpack slung over his strong shoulder.

"Oh. I don't know. Thinking. I have no idea what to do with my free time now," he told her honestly. She gave him a half smile and held out her hand for him to take.

"Come on."

* * *

"Oh my God! Get that biker!" Mercedes exclaimed, covering her mouth to stifle her giggles. Sam looked down from where they stood atop the six story apartment complex and tried to aim it just right before dropping the red water balloon. It hit the gentleman on his bike directly on the head, causing him to crash into a stop sign. They both laughed and dropped to the ground, sitting against the brick barrier so the man wouldn't see them.

They heard him yell expletives in their direction, and it just made the two laugh harder.

After using up the rest of the balloons on unsuspecting passersby, Mercedes took Sam to the diner by her neighborhood.

When they were served their food, Sam stared at the juicy burger on the plate in front of him and sighed.

"What's up with you?" she asked, cutting hers in half. He picked the whole thing up in one hand and stared at it.

"It's been a really long time since I've eaten something like this," he admitted. "I mean, it kind of goes against everything I believe in." She rolled her eyes and took a bit of her burger, purposely making a show of it and moaning when she swallowed.

"Sweet Lord, that is good," she said, nodding.

"I know what you're doing," he said, mock glaring at her. She just smirked and shrugged.

"Well I'm not lying. It's the best damn cow I've ever tasted," she told him, licking excess ketchup off the side of hers. He bit his lip and looked at his burger again. He'd already eaten Trix this morning.

"I don't know. I mean—"

"Oh, fuck," she said, moaning again after taking another bite. "Eat the burger, Sam." He stared at her, then back at it.

_Fuck it_, he thought, taking a huge bite. It was cooked to perfection and his eyes nearly crossed at the deliciousness of it. That was a damn good burger, and he was now fully intent on making it his bitch.

He grabbed the red container sitting by the napkins on their table with haste. This called for more ketchup.

That evening, he went home and watched a movie with his younger siblings before retiring to his room. As he went to turn the light off, it occurred to him that he hadn't called Quinn like he was supposed to. He sighed and grabbed his phone off the dresser, pressing her name and putting it to his ear, waiting for her to pick up.

"Hey! I was beginning to think you forgot about me again," she said when she answered.

"Of course not," he replied, smiling.

"Good. How was today? Is your arm bothering you?" she asked.

"Nope. It's okay."

"Well that's good. It's always nice hearing your voice before I go to bed."

"Ditto," he responded. Quinn pursed her lips. _Ditto_?

"Okay well, goodnight. I love you," she told him.

"Love you too." He licked his lips.


	2. Quinn

"Quinn Fabray?"

But why would he just leave? With no explanation or hinting or even a note. It was rude, if anything.

"Quinn Fabray?"

At least they still had the house. He wasn't so heartless that he'd cut them off and leave them on the streets. Quinn jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Quinn? Dr. Ansley will see you now." She looked up and came face to face with the short, pudgy, ginger receptionist. She smiled and rubbed her shoulder. Quinn shrugged her off and stood, smoothing out her white dress and plucking her purse off the seat next to her before walking into the doctor's office.

Dr. Ansley was supposed to be the best psychiatrist in the area and her office reflected it. The room reeked of lavender and mahogany; there was a leather chesterfield directly across from a large desk where the woman sat, smiling, her eyes boring into Quinn from behind brown rimmed glasses. Behind her were shelves filled with degrees and honors. Of course.

"Quinn! Take a seat, won't you?" the woman said, clasping her hands together on the desk. She silently walked over and sat down, keeping her purse on her arm and putting her hands in her lap.

This felt wrong. Her father left them two days ago and her mother already had her in therapy.

"So! Why don't we start with you telling me why you think you're here?"

"Isn't that _your_ job?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well…not exactly. But I want to know why you think you're here. It might help you discuss…"

"I'm here because my father left and my mother thinks it should have had some large impact on my well-being, but I'm fine."

The older woman simply smiled at her and Quinn was instantly annoyed. She watched her take a pad and pen from out of her desk drawer and begin scribbling on it. This annoyed Quinn more. She barely said anything and she was already being analyzed.

"So you don't feel any negative things right now? Resentment? Despondency?" she asked.

"Well obviously I'm not _happy_ about it, but things like this happen all the time. We'll get by."

"He was your father…"

"I'm aware of that, thank you. But he's not the first to walk out on a family and there are people going through much worse. Though if my mother wants to waste good money on a shrink, it's her problem. But don't expect me to act depressed or angry so you can feel useful."

"Quinn," Dr. Ansley said in a calm tone. "I spoke to your mother. She just thinks you need someone to talk to, so that's what we're going to do. Talk. Tell me about school."

Quinn released a breath and looked out the large window adjacent to where she was seated.

"Why school?" she asked. The woman shrugged.

"Why not."

"School is fine."

"Why do you say that? What makes it fine?"

"I have a 4.0 GPA, a great boyfriend, great friends, and great hair. I'm pretty, therefore things go my way. That sounds bad, but honestly it's true. I have no reason to be unhappy," she told her. The woman wrote down more notes in her pad.

"Well, being pretty does help a lot of things…tell me about your boyfriend."

"His name is Sam and he's sweet, caring and sinfully attractive."

"What do you like most about him?"

"He's…innocent. And he makes me feel good," Quinn said.

More scribbling. She wanted to rip the pad away and toss it out the window.

"I see. Tell me about your friends." She smiled and adjusted her glasses.

"All of them?"

"The ones that matter."

"Well, there's Mercedes, Santana, and Rachel. They're my closest friends. There are others, like Puck, Kurt and Tina, but…"

"Why are those girls the closest?"

"Mercedes is probably the best friend a girl could have, really. She always knows what to say in any given situation and she has her head on straight. She's there when I need her and she forces people to be honest with themselves. Then there's Santana. We fight all the time, but when it comes down to it, I know we'd kill for each other. We've been on the same dance team since we were toddlers, and I can always tell her my secrets without being judged."

"Do you have a lot of secrets?" she asked.

"No," Quinn snapped, her voice lowering. "I was speaking hypothetically."

"Okay…well what about Rachel?"

"Right," she said, her expressions softening. "She's…shrill. And pushy and arrogant and she rarely takes other peoples' feelings into account…"

"I'm sorry, this is your close friend?" the doctor cut in.

"Well…yeah. I just don't know what it is, but I like being around her." Quinn furrowed her eyebrows and looked down at her hands. All of her friends were baffled by her fixation on Rachel and honestly, so was she. But she didn't question it.

"Do you think you might be attracted to her?" the woman asked with a straight expression.

"What? God, no. No. I'm not…just no."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of if you have sexual feelings towards a gi—"

"Shut up! I don't. Can we just change the subject?" Quinn asked, avoiding eye contact.

"Alright…how do you feel about your sister leaving?"

She tensed up and continued looking out the window. She didn't like where this session was headed. The woman was attempting to paint her to be some sort of sad, confused head-case and she wasn't having it.

"It's what she wanted, so who cares," she said simply.

"Do you think your father and sister abandoning you are having effects on your self-esteem?"

"They left for two completely different reasons, alright? My father was fucking some random whore and my sister couldn't stand be cooped up in suburban hell with a neurotic mother, so she left. It's what they both wanted and it doesn't have shit to do with me." She looked at the clock on the desk and stood abruptly. "If you don't mind, I'd like to leave early."

With that, Quinn opened the door and left, quickly walking by the other people waiting outside and to the elevator. She needed a latte.

When she arrived home, her breath hitched and she pulled into the driveway. There was a small, old van in the front, its bumper smothered in stickers that represented punk rock bands and old cartoons.

Frannie.

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, smoothing out her dress and walking up to the front door. She walked in and closed the door behind her, looking around to see if her sister would readily show herself. No such luck.

"Hello?" she called, hanging her purse on the rack by the door.

"In here!"

Quinn followed the voice into their large kitchen, where a thin girl with a jet black pixie cut in ripped jeans and a faded, cut up Radiohead tee was leaning on the counter eating an apple.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, hesitantly stepping forward.

"I can't visit?" the girl asked, smirking and biting into the apple.

"Well sure you can, you just haven't bothered in three years," Quinn retorted, folding her arms.

"Quinnie…you know why I left."

"Actually Frannie, I don't."

"Yikes. No one's called me that in years."

"What do they call you? Surely not Francesca," the blonde challenged, raising her eyebrow.

"It's Frankie now," the short haired girl replied, smirking. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Cute. So why are you here? Run out of money or something?"

"I see you're still properly brainwashed," she pointed out. Quinn huffed and slapped a hand on the tiled counter.

"Just because I have goals and shower regularly does not mean I'm brainwashed." Frankie sighed and pursed her lips before tossing the apple core into the trash nearby.

"Look, Quinn. I'm here because I realize that even though I meant to leave Mom and Dad, I didn't mean to leave you. I want to be a part of your life. And I want to show you what it's like to step out of your comfort zone. Come out with me tonight."

"So, out of the blue you have an interest in me? Just all of a sudden you want to 'hang out'?" she asked, making finger quotes.

"Well no. I've been thinking about you for a while now, and I called. That's how I found out about Dad. So then I thought, what better time than right now? You need to get out, Quinn. If you hate it, then fine. But you deserve to experience a different kind of therapy than the kind Mom's forcing you into."

Quinn stared at her sister for several moments, biting her lip and thinking.

"Okay, fine," she said finally. Frankie clapped her hands together and grinned.

"Great. Sisterly bonding time! But uh, first you need a change of clothes."

* * *

Quinn knew she would find bruises in the morning. The smell of sweat and cigarettes permeated the air and her sister kept disappearing in the sea of bodies. She didn't know the song that band was playing, but by the third chorus, she was singing along just like everyone else and slamming from person to person, grinning and letting it go when she felt someone's drink spill onto her sister's Misfits tank.

To say she was out of her element would have been an obnoxious understatement. But she _liked_ it. She would have never volunteered to be around these types of people, but when she finally loosened up and _tried_ to have fun, she discovered she was actually having it. These people were alive and full of music and…freedom.

"Slow down there, cowgirl!" Quinn slammed the shot glass on the bar and wiped her mouth, grinning at Frankie. She'd found her way out of the crowd minutes ago to get more drinks, hoping the poison would make the night last longer. The longer it lasted, the longer it would be before she had to slip back into the role of sweet Christian Quinn Fabray.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do!" she yelled over the music in response. Frankie laughed and ordered herself a shot, downing it in seconds.

"So I take it you're enjoying yourself then?" the raven haired girl asked with a knowing smirk.

"Don't rub it in!" She grinned and pulled her back into the pit as a new song began to play.

When 3am hit, she was ignoring the vibrations of her phone in her bra reminding her of the voicemails she hadn't checked earlier on and gripping the sides of a metal sink while a guy whose name she couldn't remember (James? Jake? Jack…?) grunted and pounded into her.

When she felt the swell of an orgasm in her lower stomach, she moaned and wrapped her legs around him tighter, attacking his mouth in a sloppy drunken kiss. Her toes went numb and he sped up until he came, breathing against her neck, thrusting a few more times before pulling out. He hastily pulled his pants up and lit a cigarette. She smirked and took it from him, placing it in her mouth and winking. He shook his head and got another, lighting it and winking back at her.

"Bye Jim," she said, yanking up her panties and trotting out of the dirty one-person restroom.

"It's Jason!" he called after her. She blew out smoke and went to find her sister; that is, if she could recognize her. She may have been too far gone.

She couldn't find Frannie and she was beginning to feel dizzy, completely unable to remember if she took something. She could barely see straight, but she found the exit and stumbled outside, ignoring jeers and vulgarities from guys hanging outside the club.

She walked for about an hour, still out of it. She didn't know she had a destination in mind until she was outside of Rachel Berry's house. She tossed a pinecone at her bedroom window and that's all it took before it flung open. The brunette was in button down pink pajamas and her hair was held back by a matching headband.

"Quinn! What are you doing here? And why on Earth are you dressed like that?"

"Can I come up?" she asked, ignoring the questions.

"I…my dads…"

"Rachel…please?"

She sighed and closed her window, reappearing at her front door and waving for her to come in. Quinn walked up and went in the house, staying quiet as Rachel snuck her upstairs to her room.

"What are you doing here?" she asked once they were alone with the door closed. Quinn wasn't sure how to answer, so she went with instinct. Stepping forward, she put her hands on both sides of Rachel's face and pressed her lips to hers. The girl's eyes widened and she tried to pull away, but Quinn desperately followed her movements to stay attached. When she began to kiss back, letting the blonde's tongue enter her mouth, she came to her senses as soon as she'd lost them.

"Stop! What are you doing!" she asked, pushing Quinn away gently.

"No talking," she replied, backing her against the bed and leaning in for another kiss.

"Quinn! Stop, seriously! Are you on drugs?"

"A few, I guess."

Rachel put her hands on her shoulders and pushed her away again, licking her lips and searching her diluted eyes.

"Let me take you home."

* * *

Quinn sat on the edge of her bed, staring into the mirror on her vanity. Her mind was still reeling and she needed something to do. Sleep wasn't an option and her hands were shaking. Finally, she stood, walking over to the vanity and grabbing the pair of scissors on it and sitting down.

"Much too much to deal with," she mumbled, taking a chunk of her blonde hair and cutting through it. She continued this until in her haze, she was satisfied.

When the sun shone through her curtains in the morning, she winced and rolled over, pressing her face into her pillow. Her phone vibrated and it startled her, as it still appeared to be nestled in her bra from the night before.

She groaned and pulled it out, looking at the screen. It was the usual text from Sam. They'd become increasingly robotic since he broke his arm, but this one took the cake.

_Morning. Love u_.

She went through the other messages she'd missed last night and there was one from him and one from her mother. She looked at the alarm clock and realized she'd probably left for the country club and if she didn't get up now, she'd be late for class.

Her back hurt as she rolled off of the bed and she limped over to her bathroom, a bit sore as well. When she looked in her mirror, she almost cried. Her make-up was smeared all over her face and her eyes were red, but the shocker was her hair. She touched the tips of it and sighed. There was no time for freaking out and tears, so she took a deep breath before going to retrieve her scissors and flatiron to try and even the edges and make herself look somewhat presentable.

When she arrived at school, she got looks right away. People began whispering about her hair, but she held her head high. She saw Rachel by her locker with Finn and waved, her smile fading when she didn't return it and looked down. Finn on the other hand waved back.

Quinn tried not to let it get to her.

She got to her first hour and spotted Sam and Mercedes towards the back. He was doing one of his stupid impressions and she was laughing. He just smiled and stared at her as she did so, biting his lip and looking star-struck.

Once again, she tried not to let it get to her.


End file.
